


A Kiss On The Cheek (Is Better Than None)

by pipelliot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen Fic, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:19:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipelliot/pseuds/pipelliot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post s4: Merlin stands in the doorway of Arthur’s – and Guinevere’s- chambers and frowns. (Or where Arthur is perfectly sober and slobbers Merlin on the cheek.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss On The Cheek (Is Better Than None)

Merlin stands in the doorway of Arthur’s – and Guinevere’s- chambers and frowns.

Every surface is gleaming, perfectly polished. Flowers of pink and yellow and orange are draped all over and around the bedposts, on the windowsills and above. The floor practically sparkles. Merlin can see inside Arthur’s giant, oak wardrobe - everything is perfectly pressed, perfectly folded and organized in a way that probably makes sense but that Merlin can’t understand one bit.

For all the time Merlin had spent in these chambers he’s never seen them look so homely, so lived in yet still _clean_. Stray books of Arthur’s are strewn on the bedside table, and Gwen’s jewels and trinkets sit prettily on the dressing table, but everything is perfectly dusted. Paintings of mountains and sunsets hang on the walls, and the normally stone cold floors are covered by warm and colourful rugs, beneath them perfectly swept and scrubbed. It’s-

It’s quite lovely, really.

Merlin would smile if he wasn’t frowning. 

(He isn’t too sure why he’s frowning. Except he kind of is.)

“What _happened_?”

Arthur is simultaneously trying to pull his head through a tunic Merlin doesn’t recognize and pull on his casual day-boots, mouth stretched around an apple and dribble glistening on his chin.

“Merlin!” he says. Or so Merlin thinks, it’s hard to tell.

Arthur frees his arm and uses it take a large, overdue bite of the apple and uses his sleeve to wipe the drool from his chin. Merlin almost groans, before he remembers he’s not in charge of cleaning it- or indeed any of Arthur’s tunics- any more.

Arthur swallows and smiles at him, brilliant and wide. “Don’t sneak up on people like that, Merlin. I was-“

Merlin arches a brow.

“- absolutely not startled one bit.”

Arthur’s smile is bright and utterly infectious. Merlin can’t help but return it, just as wide.

“So, were you saying?” says Arthur, in between trying to tie the laces of his tunic in a way that makes him pout and gives him a double chin. 

“I was asking what exactly happened to this place. I mean, look at it,” Merlin makes a waving gesture in the general direction of the flowers as he heads toward the dining table and begins stacking the breakfast plates out of sheer habit. It’s familiar, nice.

“I know. Apparently, servants are supposed to actually _clean_ around here. It’s incredible, really.” Arthur’s smirking at him, and it’s light and playful, as always, but it’s still almost too soon and Merlin can’t help but feel a little stung.

Merlin knew it wasn’t personal, when Arthur relieved him of his duties. Merlin understood that now with Gwen around, it would’ve been too awkward, and unnecessary for Arthur to have need of a personal servant when, Gwen, a past servant herself, insisted that Arthur do simple takes such as dressing himself and that she would be able to keep the place in order just fine. Arthur told him that he didn’t need to pick up plates after him anymore, that the maids would clean his clothes and polish his armor and that the squires would fix his chainmail and trail after him with his hunting gear- as it should have been, anyway.

Arthur told him that he could now focus his full attentions on being Gauis’ apprentice. Especially in his old age, he’d said it was important that Merlin helped out as much as he could and made him comfortable. Then, with a smile a little less sure, he patted him on the shoulder saying, who knows, perhaps if he paid enough attention he may even take over someday.

Merlin- although glad to devote more of his time to Gauis- thought of a far grander future he’d been promised and, feeing his stomach plummet, sincerely hoped that that becoming Court Physician would never be the case.

Merlin knew that it was George who did most of his old duties- polishing Arthur’s weapons, fixing his chainmail and generally cleaning up after him. Merlin supposed that Arthur didn’t want Merlin to feel as though he’d been replaced. His heart warmed a little at the thought, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt a bit, given that was pretty much what happened.

Arthur looks a little puzzled when Merlin turns to him next, he supposes his smile must have faltered slightly at Arthur’s teasing.

“What’s with all the flowers?” he says, when the silence stretches just a little too long, and scrapes all the leftover bacon on to the one plate. “George’s idea, I’d bet.” 

Arthur scoffs, starting towards the wardrobe. To fetch his coat, Merlin guesses, and beats him to it.

“Here, I’ll get it,” he says, looking for the light, brown-ish one that reaches as far as Arthur’s knees, the one with the thing that Arthur likes to wear when it’s only a little chilly out.

Merlin frowns at the wardrobe once again.

“I don’t know how you find anything in here. I mean, really, my way was much more efficient,” he says, voice echoing a little inside the huge thing, sounding a little sulkier than intended.

“By colour, you mean?” says Arthur, and Merlin can hear the returning smirk in his voice.

“Really, Merlin, you’re beginning to sound like a jealous maiden,” says Arthur, after Merlin finally finds what he’s looking for and is slipping each of Arthur’s arms into the coat with easy familiarity. It’s not his place anymore, he knows, but he does it mostly out of habit, and a little because it feels right. He’s thankful when Arthur doesn’t say anything, that he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Am not,” he mutters under his breath, fixing Arthur’s collar just right. Or whatever way he supposes is right.

Arthur laughs softly, and Merlin tries his best to scowl, making him laugh a little louder, throwing his head back.

“Oh, do cheer up, Merlin,” he says, slapping Merlin’s hands away “and stop being such a fuss pot. You’re not actually my wife, you know.”

He reaches around Merlin then, grabbing his apple and taking another large chunk out of it, munching loudly and happily in Merlin’s face before swallowing and leaning in to plant a very sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Before Merlin can react, or at least wipe away the glob of apple juice-y spit, Arthur is already sweeping past him towards the door.

“Don’t wait up!” he announces over his shoulder, and practically waltzes away.

Merlin smiles after him, wincing only a little at the now damp patch of spit left on his sleeve. He remembers why Arthur had asked him to drop by this morning in the first place -something about Gauis’ records of something or other in the lowertown- and realizes that Arthur had left without mentioning anything at all about it. Had in fact seemed to have forgotten entirely.

Arthur was happy, buzzing with energy, glowing. Merlin swallowed the ache in his chest and remembered just how brilliantly Arthur had smiled upon seeing him, and couldn’t possibly deny his own.

31.05.2012


End file.
